


Unwrapped

by sherlockian4evr



Series: Risqué [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Sex, Anal Vibrators, BDSM, Blindfolds, Cock Cages, Collars, Dom John Watson, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Non-Canon Relationship, Orgasm, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise, Riding Crops, Rimming, Sherlock Wearing A Sheet, Sleep Sack, Smut, Sub Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's eyes had closed of their own volition. His awareness had been reduced to pain, pleasure, and the sound of John's voice.</p><p>I had too much fun writing this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caged but Free

When John returned from the surgery, he was looking forward to a restful night. That all changed in an instant. Sherlock had found Bluebell and had correctly deduced its purpose.  _Of course he had._  It was always better to leave Sherlock to deduce things on his own rather than try to explain, calmly. John felt a rush of adrenaline and the beginnings of a stirring in his groin at the sight of the plush bunny sitting in his chair. But where was Sherlock? In the bedroom, waiting, of course.

John stripped off his coat and made a beeline for their bedroom. Sherlock was waiting, naked, knelt in the center of the bed. He was wearing his black leather collar. John's breath caught at the sight of the pale flesh against the black leather. "Gorgeous."

They had agreed that, on occasion, Sherlock could select the toys to be used in their scenes. This was apparently to be one of those occasions. On the bed were four items: clover style nipple clamps with a small weight, an anal vibrator, the spiked cock cage, and the leather riding crop. When John looked up from the where the toys lay, his eyes locked with Sherlock's and the burning heat of desire passed between them.

John toed off his shoes then climbed onto the bed in front of Sherlock, kneeling. He slipped his right leg between Sherlock's, pressing into the detective's erection. The resulting moan caused his own cock to stir uncomfortably in his jeans.

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned into John, already panting with need. The doctor carded his fingers through the detective's soft sable hair, stopping halfway through to tangle his fingers tightly in the curls. Pulling Sherlock's head back, John licked the detective's neck and traced the edge of the collar against the pale flesh with his tongue.

Sherlock's eloquent baritone was reduced to a low and needy moan.  **Christ.**  He was truly being a pain slut this evening.

John had taken the spiked cock cage in his hand. "Lie down on your back, Sherlock."

When the detective had complied, John cupped Sherlock's bollocks and cock in his hand. "As ready as you are, this is going to hurt like hell." He pulled back his hand.

"Please, I need it, John." Sherlock's baritone had dropped a full octave.

"I know, love. But this will take the two of us." John pulled his hand away. "Take yourself in hand and pull your bollocks tight against your cock." The doctor fitted the hinged ring around the fistful of flesh that Sherlock was grasping, careful not to pinch the detective's skin in the clasp or joint. Sherlock let out a hiss as the spikes pressed into him, his erection flagging. John fitted the remainder of the cage over Sherlock's semi-erect cock and locked it in place.

John assisted Sherlock back to his kneeling position. A faint sheen of sweat had broken out over the brunet's quaking body. "Are you okay, Sherlock?"

His response was slow in coming, as if hearing John from a distance. "Yes, John."

John soothed Sherlock with soft touches and tender kisses over his face and neck. He nipped at his earlobes and whispered words of comfort. "You are doing so well, Sherlock. Look at you, you can do this for me. You want to do this for me. You're strong and can take the pain. When you hurt for me you are so fucking gorgeous." John ran his hands over Sherlock's arms and lifted the other man's hands to his lips to kiss the palms. "You're shaking, Sherlock, like a virgin girl on her wedding night."

At his words, Sherlock moaned wantonly, leaning his forehead against John's. He craved John's touch, his praise, the pain that only John could give. "Please, John. I need you. I need more."

John ran his hands over Sherlock's arms. "I'm right here, Sherlock. I'll always be here. Just for you. Only for you." He leaned in and bit hard at Sherlock's right nipple, tugging back with his teeth before releasing the hard nub. "I'll always give you what you need. Go ahead," John lavished his rough attentions on the other man's right nipple for a time, "let your mind shut down for me."

Sherlock's eyes had closed of their own volition. His awareness had been reduced to pain, pleasure, and the sound of John's voice.

John reached for the weighted nipple clamps. Sherlock had selected a light weight for this particular scene, John noted. There would be pain, but the swaying weight would be more of a distracting sensation than the focus of this round.

John tweaked his lover's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger before applying the clamp. He was rewarded by Sherlock's sharp intake of breath. Allowing the other end of the chained clamps to dangle free, the doctor wove his hand into Sherlock's curls. He placed a bruising kiss at the base of the brunette's neck while toying with Sherlock's other nipple.

Sherlock pressed forward into John's hand, his body craving a stronger sensation. John pulled back, admiring the mark his mouth had left on Sherlock's pale skin. "Beautiful." The doctor grasped the chain hanging from Sherlock's nipple and gave it a small tug before sliding his hand down to the other clamp and clipping it into place.

The detective threw his head back and moaned, his hands twisting tightly in the sheets. Every muscle of his body was held in sweet tension as his cock strained against the spiked confines of the cage.

John pulled Sherlock's hands from the sheets and placed them, palms upright, to lie by the brunette's sides. "Don't move love. Hold that beautiful pose for me." So saying, John rose from the bed and quickly stripped himself of his clothing.

Taking the lube from its customary location in the top drawer of the bedside table, he knelt on the bed behind Sherlock. The anal vibrator was well within reach. Based on Sherlock's selection of playthings, the man would want minimal preparation. Other days and other scenes would call for more loving and intimate touches. This evening, John pressed Sherlock forward onto his knees and set to work in a clinical fashion.

Sherlock felt John's callused and lubricated finger breach him abruptly. He reveled in the quick onset of the burning sensation. Sherlock pressed his arse back, craving more. As soon as John felt it was safe, he added a second finger then a third. Sherlock moaned with each addition.

The doctor reached around Sherlock with his free hand to fondle the tight bulge of the detective's bollocks. Sherlock bucked at the touch; his cock was in an ecstasy of pain as it strained against the spiked confines of its housing.

Moving his hand up, John fingered his lover's cock through the openings in the metal cage. "Amazing. Christ, what you do to me, Sherlock." John rubbed his own erection against his lover's arse. "Can you feel that? It's all because of you."

Sherlock felt the sway and pull of the weight that hung down between the clamps at his chest. He was beyond replying. He was beyond anything but  _existing_  in that moment. Sherlock was nothing but sensation.

John spread Sherlock's arse cheeks and pressed the anal vibrator against his lover's hole. Sherlock cried out and his thighs quivered as John slid it home with one smooth motion.

John crooned, "You're ready love. Try to keep still for me." The vibrator had come with a remote. John placed the vibrator on a random setting and watched for a few moments as the detective's body strained to remain still against the onslaught.

John lifted Sherlock back to rest on his heels then moved around to sit on the bed in front of the detective. He crooned words of praise and reassurance once again as he simply allowed himself to watch the struggle displayed on Sherlock's face. The man was simply the most  _erotic_  creature that John had ever known.

Without noticing, John began to palm his own cock in time to the spasms playing themselves out through Sherlock's body. Sherlock's pale flesh was now glistening with sweat, taught with strain, and flushed with heat. He was a glorious vision of rapture in pain.

All too soon, John felt the sensation of impending release. He removed his hand from his cock and closed his eyes, stepping back from the brink.

John repositioned Sherlock on the bed. He could tell that the other man was still craving more. John pressed him down to lie forward on his arms and raised his arse into the air then spread Sherlock's legs to provide his lover more stability for what was to come.

Rising from the bed, John took the riding crop in hand. "You've done so well, love. I know that you want more but I'm stopping at ten, that's all you need. Don't try to count."

John swung the crop and struck Sherlock's arse squarely on the center. Two more swift strikes, in parallel to the first caused the detective to lunge forward. The remaining blows rained down randomly, the last causing Sherlock to collapse onto the bed with a cry.

John didn't take time to rest his arm from the harsh blows. Instead, he quickly shut down and removed the anal vibrator before rolling Sherlock onto his back. Sherlock was at the precipice and John wanted to tip him over the edge into ecstasy.

He unlocked the spiked cock cage and Sherlock turned his head into the sheets and groaned; he was torn between pleasure and pain as his cock expanded to its full length and girth. The doctor grasped the chain of the nipple clamps and, palming himself furiously, pulled them off with a swift jerk. Instantly, Sherlock’s body went into spasms where he lay as jets of semen coated his abdomen. The sight was enough to tip John over the edge into his own blinding orgasm as he called out Sherlock's name.

Sherlock remained still on the bed. John called his name once, twice, three times. Slowly, Sherlock turned his head toward John, a slow and lazy smile emerging on his face. John smiled. "You're back. Good. You okay?"

In reply, Sherlock rolled onto his side and pulled John to him in a sticky embrace.

John smiled. "Right. Not talking yet. Let me know when you are ready, love. I'll take off that collar, clean us up, and take care of that aching arse of yours, yeah?"

Sherlock buried this face in John's neck; John would always take care of him.


	2. Embarrassed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, boys.” She was carrying a tray laden with her latest baking. It smelled heavenly. “I brought you a little something for breakfast.” She lowered her voice. “I figured you might need it after your activities of last evening.” She sat the tray down on the kitchen table.
> 
> The good doctor wanted the floor to open up and swallow him on the spot. Sherlock, however, was looking as smug as ever.
> 
> “I used to enjoy quite the sex life,” Mrs. Hudson continued, now in a louder tone. “Oh the things I tried. One time…”
> 
> John couldn’t take it, “Mrs. Hudson! Please!”
> 
> Beta read by Sherlock1110.

Sherlock was draped, face down, on the sofa. His head was turned to the side so that he could watch as John puttered around the flat, toes curled against the other end of the sofa. Whenever his lover’s gaze passed his way, he wriggled his arse showing off the lovely stripes from the evening before. He enjoyed the flush that crept up John’s face every time he did this.

When Mrs. Hudson’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, John bounded for the door to the flat locking it just in time. 

“Yoo hoo, boys,” their landlady called. “Your door is locked. Boys?”

Now flushed from embarrassment, John called out “One moment Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock’s not decent.”

“He rarely is, John dear.” Her voice was tinged with amusement.

The doctor cringed. “Well, this is a bit more… just one moment,  _please_?” Turning to the detective, his tone grew sharp. “At the very least, pick up your sheet and cover that striped arse of your!” When the other man didn’t show a sign of moving, John picked up the sheet and dropped it on Sherlock’s pale form. “Now!”

He received a glare for his troubles, but at least the detective rose from his position and wrapped the sheet around his lithe form before perching on the sofa with a smug smile. Only his head and feet were showing.

John knew that Mrs. Hudson had been subjected to the sight many times before so he allowed their landlady entrance to the flat.

“Good morning, boys.” She was carrying a tray laden with her latest baking. It smelled heavenly. “I brought you a little something for breakfast.” She lowered her voice. “I figured you might need it after your activities of last evening.” She sat the tray down on the kitchen table.

The good doctor wanted the floor to open up and swallow him on the spot. Sherlock, however, was looking as smug as ever.

“I used to enjoy quite the sex life,” Mrs. Hudson continued, now in a louder tone. “Oh the things I tried. One time…”

John couldn’t take it, “Mrs. Hudson! Please!”

Their landlady smiled and patted his cheek. “John, Dear. Okay, I won’t embarrass you further. Enjoy your breakfast boys.” So saying, she left the flat and closed the door behind her.

Sherlock’s booming laugh exploded into the silence of their apartment. This time, John didn’t join in. It was bad enough to know that Mrs. Hudson had been an exotic dancer in her youth but he didn’t want the image of the woman having sex to infiltrate his mind.

“Shut it, Sherlock.” The doctor stomped into their room and slammed the door, Sherlock’s laughter echoing on the other side of the barrier. He flopped down on the bed and covered his head with a pillow, trying to imagine anything other than Mrs. Hudson; her head thrown back in passion.

Sherlock padded to their room, opened the door, and sat on the bed. He tried to put on a contrite face but it came across as more of a smirk. “Sorry, John.” A snigger snuck out. “The look on your face.” The detective peeled the pillow from his lover’s face. “Forgive me?”

John growled at him.

In response, Sherlock dropped the sheet and moved to hover over John. He tried again. “Forgive me?”

The blonde’s growl was less aggressive this time.

The detective lavished a kiss on John’s lips. “Forgive me?”

John smiled.

Sherlock lifted his John’s hand to his bare arse over the stripes from the riding crop then laved a stripe up his lover’s neck. “Forgive me?”

The doctor was flushed with desire now. “Fuck. Yes.” He pinched the detective’s arse and relished the low gasp that escaped his lover’s lips. “Tender, love?”

“Hmm,” was Sherlock’s only response as he nudged at John’s neck with his lips.

John was so aroused, but he had to be at the surgery this morning. “Bloody hell. Stop, love.”

The detective continued his ministrations.

“Ungh. Please, Sherlock. I have to go.” The doctor’s voice sounded plaintive.

Reluctantly, the detective pulled back. John was amused at the pout displayed on Sherlock’s face.

“We’ll play when I get back home. Promise. But not impact play. Understood.” John would not risk hurting his beloved.

The detective smiled. So long as they got to play. “Yes, John.”

The same thought went through both their minds. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Beaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John had purchased a few new toys. They are going to try them out tonight.
> 
> Beta read by Sherlock1110.

Sherlock had been on the edge of arousal all day, which had done nothing to help the hours pass. He had tried everything, including three experiments all of which had ended in complete disaster. Finally time had crept slothfully along and John would soon be coming home, back to the flat, back to him. Suddenly, Sherlock was acutely aware of his dishevelled state. He was still wearing nothing but the sheet from this morning and his hair was an unruly mess. He brought his hand to his face and ran it over the stubble that he found there. John would never approve.

He rushed to their bedroom and selected a suit that flattered his form, of course all of his suits were cut  _just so_. He chose a white shirt that appeared translucent against his skin. He automatically selected matching socks, belt and shoes. Everything was placed on the bed awaiting his return from the shower.

Sherlock quickly and methodically bathed, using the body wash that John enjoyed the most. It smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon. After washing his hair, he cut off the shower, stepped out, and towelled off. Running product through his hair, the detective arranged his curls just so. He picked up his razor and shaved, knowing that John preferred the feel of smooth flesh under his hand. Satisfied, he returned to their room to dress.

John had texted earlier to let Sherlock know that he would be running late this evening. He had said that he needed to make a few purchases from the shop. The detective pondered over the text. Placing his body on autopilot as he dressed, he wondered what John could possibly be buying. They had everything they could possibly need. Milk, tea, sugar, biscuits, leftovers. In the face of their plans, nothing should have diverted his doctor. He would find out soon enough.

Sherlock checked himself once more in the mirror. Yes. Just what John liked. A lascivious smile spread across his face. The detective counted himself lucky. It was rare that his lover agreed to a scene two nights in a row. The doctor worried about him too much. Tonight would lack impact play, but John would make it interesting. It always was; he was an amazing man.

The sound of the key in the lock of the flat door sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine and a shock of arousal through his groin. He left their room to greet his lover.

John closed and locked the door to the flat behind him, encumbered by black bags with gold lettering. He smiled when he saw Sherlock. The tall detective looked stunning with that shirt stretched scintillatingly over his pale torso. It hinted at the muscles that lay just beneath. “Hello lover.”

The brunette’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at the doctor and swooped in to beg a kiss. His lips pressed against John’s and parted to allow the gentle probing of his partner’s tongue. Sherlock shivered as he was claimed in so simple a manner by the man that he loved. The bags fell from John’s hands and his arms came up to wrap possessively around the detectives torso in a tight embrace. When they broke apart, the detective’s legs were already rubbery beneath him and he held onto John for stability.

“Rough day,” John asked, amused at the effect he was having on his partner.

With a “Hmm”, Sherlock nodded. “You have no idea. The flat has been empty and boring without you. I have had nothing to contemplate but  _this_  the entire day. It has been very… distracting.” He glanced down at the bags that John had dropped to the floor. “Interesting. I see that you have been to my favourite shop.” John blushed. “Do I get to see what you have purchased or is it to be a surprise?” The detective pressed his body closer to his lover, writhing a bit for emphasis.

That was it. Just because John got embarrassed every time they went to or mentioned the sex shop, he wasn’t going to allow Sherlock to top from the bottom. “Knees, now.”

Instantly, the detective folded himself into a graceful kneeling position on the floor. His hands were folded behind his back and his head was bowed. The doctor took a handful of curls in his hand and bent Sherlock’s head back until the other man was forced to look up into John’s blue eyes. “Who is in control?”

The detective’s eyes were watering from the grip John had in his hair but his cock was stirring with renewed arousal. “You are John.”

“Remember that.” John peered into Sherlock’s cerulean eyes. “For your mistake, you have to service me before you get to come. Understood.”

The other man was breathing harder now. “Yes John.”

After a moment, the doctor released his grip on the detective’s hair. “Right. Go kneel facing the end of our bed. I’ll be right along.”

Sherlock started to stand. Pressing a hand between his shoulders, John urged him onto all fours. The other man looked up.  **Oh.**  “Is this okay,” John asked, remembering that Sherlock did  _not_  have a humiliation kink. “I really just want to watch that lovely arse of yours.” At that the detective smiled and complied enthusiastically. Appreciatively, John leaned sideways against the flat’s door and watched as Sherlock made his way across the floor. The man  _did_  love to be admired and was making an excellent show of it.

As the detective disappeared around the corner, John moved into action. He opened the items that he had purchased, disposing of the packaging. Only one needed cleaned before use so he made short order of that chore, checking for rough edges as he worked. Everything was in order. Grabbing two glasses of water and his prizes, he joined Sherlock in the bedroom. As always, the sight of the man knelt at the end of the bed took his breath away.

John placed the two glasses of water on the bedside table and most of his prizes on the bed. He kept one, a well-made leather mask. He wanted to get it into place immediately. The detective had already shown far too much cheekiness this evening, he needed to be put off balance. The doctor moved to Sherlock’s side, the detective watching his approach.

When the detective saw the mask in John’s hand his breath hitched for just a moment. He listened to his lover’s words without taking them in as he felt the smooth touch of leather against his face. He revelled in the sharp, rich smell as it was snuggly bucked around his head. Instantly, the loss of his primary deductive sense freed his mind from the need to be in control. Sherlock felt himself start to relax. Soon he would be John’s in every sense of the word. He felt his own muscles flex as he reflexively stretched and preened at the thought. He was rewarded with his lover’s heartfelt exclamation of “Gorgeous.”

The doctor contemplated his next move. Quickly he stripped himself of all clothing and settled on their bed. He focused all of his attention on his lover, a slow smile spreading over his face. “I want you to stand and strip for me. Nothing fancy, just take it slowly.”

Sherlock was stunned by the command and consequently froze for a moment before rising to his feet. He felt awkward in his motions, but as always, he moved with a feline grace. The graceful fingers of his right hand moved blindly but smoothly to unbutton the single button of his suit jacket. As it fell open, he lithely shrugged his shoulders out of the jacket, catching it with his biceps before it could fall completely. Slowly, he extracted first his right arm, then his left, pulling the jacket up to hang by one finger over his shoulder for a moment. His tongue darted out to moisten his pink lips.

John hand enjoyed every graceful movement. “Stop.” He took a few moment to enjoy the pull of Sherlock’s muscles against the fabric of his shirt. “Amazing. I never tell you that enough.” The doctor crawled forward and took the jacket from Sherlock’s fingertip. He rose and folded it neatly on a chair then resumed his place on their bed. “Continue.”

Raising his right hand to his left wrist, the detective unbuttoned his cuff. Impulsively, he pulled the sleeve up and turning his head toward where he imagined John to be, raised his arm to his own lips and laved a wet kiss against his own skin with a showy moan. He enjoyed the corresponding moan that escaped his lover’s lips. Sherlock delivered the same treatment to his right arm after unbuttoning the cuff with similar results.

John shifted on the bed, rearranging his bollocks and palmed his cock as he watched.

The detective started unbuttoning his shirt, sliding his hands down the flesh of his torso suggestively between each button. He only wished that he could see the reaction that John was having to his show. The occasional moan was his only reward. Sherlock pulled the shirt from his left arm and peeled it around himself before removing his right arm and allowing it to fall from the floor.

Pragmatically, the detective toed off his shoes and socks while unfastening his belt. He slowly extracted the belt, allowing it to glide through his fingers with a soft whisper. When it was free, John once again gave him the order to stop. Sherlock waited in the darkness while the doctor shuffled around him, picking up the clothing from the floor. The detective gasped as his lover took the belt from his hand and rubbed it along his torso before breaking contact once again. He heard John resume his place on their bed and then give the order to resume.

His long, lithe fingers unbuttoned his trousers as he tried to image the picture that he made for John. The detective wriggled his hips a bit as he lowered his trousers and pants in one move. This was difficult to achieve gracefully, once he reached a certain point, he had to simply let them fall and step free of the clothing.

John was fully hard staring at the porcelain paleness of his lover. “You are the most beautiful man.” He gathered the remainder of Sherlock’s clothing and folded them on a chair. The other man was still preening under his praise. The doctor stepped up behind him and ran his hand up from the base of Sherlock’s back to the nape of his neck. “Simply gorgeous.”

John went to the head of the bed and grabbed both pillows. He came back and placed them on the floor a good distance apart. “Kneel.” Once his lover was in place, the doctor manoeuvred each leg further apart. He placed each knee atop a pillow for comfort. It was short work to put cuffs in place and attach the spreader bar between Sherlock’s ankles. “Can you take a bit more?”

The sensation of being spread like this was sending shivers of pleasure through the detective. It was liberation and freedom. “Yes John.”

Smiling, his lover extended the spreader bar a bit more until he was satisfied with the vision that Sherlock presented. “Prefect, love. Now lean over the bed.”

The detective was so tall that the junction of his waist met perfectly with the edge of the bed. John fitted his lover with his collar. The doctor always enjoyed that because he could see Sherlock visibly sink into sub-space every time. Next, he buckled the cuffs onto each of the detective’s wrists. Using long lengths of rope, he tied his lover’s arms to the headboard at the other end of the bed. He made sure that there was enough give that the man could raise his torso up on command.

It was time to introduce a new item to the scene. John reached for the spider gag that they had bought together on their first shopping spree. “Love raise up a bit and open your mouth wide for me.”

Expecting his lover’s hand or, better yet, his cock, Sherlock did as he was told. A fission of uncertainty thrilled through his body as a hard ring was pressed into his mouth and between his teeth.  **Oh. The spider gag.**  He shivered with anticipation as the metal prongs pressed against his cheeks. The prongs were designed to hold the ring firmly in place, he wouldn’t be able to dislodge it no matter how hard he tried. His erection grew harder as John tightened the belt that held the gag in place and he allowed a wanton moan to escape.

“Easy, love.” John rubbed his back in soothing circles. “You misbehaved, remember. You don’t get to come for a long time.” He tugged sharply at Sherlock’s hair. “I get to come first.” The doctor dropped his hand lower to the detective’s arse. He wouldn’t engage in impact play, not so soon, but he did pinch the lovely welts that were a reminder of the former evening’s activities.

A yelp escaped Sherlock’s open mouth along with the first trails of drool.

John picked up one last toy, graduated anal beads, along with the lube. This  _would_  be a surprise for the detective. John knelt behind Sherlock, and before the other man could anticipate his actions, he bent and laved at the detective’s hole. The doctor smiled at his lover’s reaction. His Sherlock’s first instinct had been to pull his legs together but that was a hopeless cause. Next, he had pressed back into the sensation with a moan. John continued working patiently, swirling his tongue around the puckered entrance, occasionally darting into his lover’s hole. The whines and moans coming from Sherlock fed his own arousal. He could imagine Sherlock’s gaping mouth and the drool soaking into the duvet.

When he deemed that his lover was loose enough, John pored a generous amount of lube into his hand and worked it over the first few silicone beads. They were graduated in size, the smallest starting at 1.25cm in diameter and the largest being 5cm in diameter. “If this gets to be too much snap your fingers.” Sherlock responded with a grunt. Moving carefully and slowly, John inserted the first bead.

The anticipation of the unknown had sensitized the detective’s body to new heights. When the first bead pushed in, the slight burn and stretch was wonderful. He clenched around it and enjoyed the feel. The cool addition of more lube and the gentle stretch as another bead entered caused him to shiver with delight. This continued for the next five beads, each time the burn and stretch growing deliciously. As the next lubed bead pushed against his hole, the burn and stretch turned to pain. He snapped his fingers. The pressure stopped immediately. Sherlock let out a relieved whine.

John leaned forward and kissed the shivering detectives neck. “Lovely. Seven beads, love. You took seven beads. You. Are. Amazing.” He kissed and bit in alteration down and around Sherlock’s shoulders to emphasise how proud he was of his lover.

Rising to his feet, the doctor moved back onto the bed. He scooted closer to the detective and lifted his chin with his left hand. His lover was breathing heavily through his mouth, drool rolling down his chin. John noticed that the other man’s tongue was working constantly, trying to find a comfortable place to lie within his mouth to no avail. John would give Sherlock’s tongue something else to do. “Lift up a bit love.”

Sherlock was able to do so with not trouble as the doctor had left plenty of give in the ropes restraining his arms.

John manoeuvred his body nearer to his lover’s own so that his cock would be in easy reach of the detective gaping mouth. Guiding the blindfolded man’s mouth onto his aching erection, he gasped at the contact.

The thrill of feeling his mouth sheathing John’s cock caused Sherlock’s breath to catch for a moment. The very fact that he was bound and helpless, unable even to close his mouth against the intrusion caused his own cock to jerk in response. There was nothing beyond this moment, this perfect tension.

He couldn’t caress his lover’s cock with his lips, so he set to work with his tongue, swirling it around the tip, pushing back the foreskin on the rare occasions that it crept up, licking at the slit and revelling in the taste of John’s pre-come. He couldn’t get enough of his doctor. He ached for more. Suddenly, he felt John’s fingers in his hair, pulling and guiding along his shaft. Sherlock did his best to wrap his tongue around his lover’s length as he was manhandled in an increasing fury of pulls and thrusts. He closed his eyes behind the leather mask and allowed himself to the thrill in the knowledge that he was John’s.

When his lover’s motions became jerky and spasmodic with orgasm, Sherlock’s joy was complete. He greeted the doctor’s semen with greed, fighting to swallow down as much of his lover’s DNA as he could. He didn’t want a drop of it to be wasted, lost. No, he wanted it to be incorporated into his transport to become a part of him. A magnificent integration into his body of the man that he loved.

John pulled out of his mouth as he smoothed down Sherlock’s dishevelled hair. “Bloody hell, Sherlock. Wonderful. God, that was wonderful.” The doctor fell onto his back and rested for just a few moments. Soon enough the need to care for his lover overrode his need for rest and he pulled himself out of his languor. “Let me take care of this, at least.” So saying, he unbuckled and removed the spider gag.

Sherlock flexed his mouth a few times, experimentally.

The doctor tipped his head up to meet the detective’s gaze. “Okay there?”

He worked his mouth a bit more before replying, “Yes John.”

“Right.” John smile lovingly at Sherlock. “Now its your turn.”

The detective squirmed at his lover’s words.

Climbing off of the bed, the doctor moved behind his lover once more. He reached around Sherlock and grasped his erection, slowly pumping it with his hand. As he worked his lover’s cock, he pondered his next move. Should he remove the beads slowly or with one swift pull? John decided he would wait until the moment and decide then.

Sherlock felt his doctor’s kisses along his spine. He wanted to lean into them, but he hadn’t been given permission to rise from the bed. Instead he writhed against the kisses and moaned at each fresh touch of his lips. John’s kisses were punctuated with the stroke of the man’s fingernails over the stripes on the detective’s arse. He couldn’t help it, Sherlock bucked at each painful stroke. All of this added to the persistent and talented stroking of his cock and the detective was maddeningly close to climax. It wouldn’t take much to tip him over the edge.

John could feed Sherlock trembling with the need to come. “You want to come for me don’t you Sherlock.” He licked a stipe up the other man’s back. “Go ahead love, come for me.” As the detective started to spasm and his semen started to shoot from his cock, John grasped the handle of the anal beads and pulled them from his lover’s body and one smooth stroke.

The detective’s torso lifted from the bed and went ridged. His vision went white. Unholy sounds were ripped from his lips as he was torn completely asunder in an incredibly powerful orgasm. When it was over, he collapsed back onto the bed, his body trembling.

“God, Sherlock!” John was by his side, his are over him. “Are you okay?”

The man couldn’t respond, he was too lost in the afterglow of sensation and sensory overload.

Frantically, the doctor, unfastened all restraints and removed the collar that Sherlock was wearing. He pulled the man higher onto the bed and rolled him onto his back. His lover was still unresponsive.

John ran to the loo and grabbed a handful of flannels, dampening all but one and returned to their room. “Come back to me, love.  _Please_.” He started wiping Sherlock’s face gently. He was rewarded with the slow blinking of the other man’s eyes. John continued working down his lover’s torso, cleaning the evidence of their lovemaking as he went.

Sherlock’s lovely baritone broke the silence. “John.”

The doctor moved to perch next to his lover’s head. “God, Sherlock. You scared me.”

The other man laughed. “That was the most singular experience of my life.”

With a look of pure disbelief, John through the soiled towel at the detective’s face. “You were  _gone_! You didn’t answer me! Do you hear me? I was scared!”

“No need. I was simply cataloguing the sensations for future reference.” Sherlock sat up and pulled the doctor to his side. “Be assured, when we repeat the activity, it won’t happen again.” He planted a sloppy kiss on his lover.

John pulled him into an embrace. “ _Never_  do that again.” Then giving him a fond slap, he said “I love you, you git.”


	4. Unlocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their latest case has lasted far too long. Upon its completion, it is time for some stress relief.

 

John leant against the wall of the shabby room, his eyes roving over Sherlock’s lithe form as the detective crawled about and examined the crime scene. He knew that it was all A Bit Not Good, but bloody hell, it had been days since they had made love, let alone enacted a scene and the doctor was finding it impossible to keep his thoughts on the case.  **Fuck.**  Sherlock was bent, arse in the air, peering under the bed amongst the clutter. God, John thought, the man had a gorgeous arse.

“…this time?” The DI was standing with his hands in his pockets and looking pointedly in Sherlock’s direction.

Greg’s last words had penetrated John’s ponderings. Unfortunately, the doctor had no idea what had preceded those words. “Umm, sorry Greg. I missed a bit of that. Mind repeating?” He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and hoped that the DI wouldn’t notice.

“I said, how long do you think it will take him to solve the case this time?” Greg didn’t seem to notice anything off, a fact for which John was profoundly grateful. “It’s already been four days, and he doesn’t seem to be any closer to figuring out who the murderer is than he was when I first called about the case.” The DI laughed. “Maybe he isn’t even trying.”

John supressed a small smile at that. Sherlock was  _definitely_  trying his best. If The Work weren’t enough of a motivator, then the desire to have the cock cage removed surely was. It had become a ritual with them, at the beginning of a case, John locked his lover safely away from temptation. Freedom wasn’t obtained until they were safely back at 221B at the conclusion of a case. An event that John was looking forward to with as much anticipation as the detective.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” John answered with a smile. “I’m sure that Sherlock is quite determined to see this case resolved. Besides, now he has the victim’s flat to scour.”

It was at that moment that the detective pulled out a small box from beneath the bed. He flicked the top off of the box and shouted with glee. “It was the woman’s lesbian lover.” He held up a photo then flipped it over to reveal the name on the back in blue ink. “Amanda Harkness. Check her out.” With that, he flung the box toward Lestrade and stood carefully. “Come, John.”

“Sherlock…” Greg started.

The detective turned his glare upon the DI. “I’ve given what you need, your team can do the rest. We have things to do.” With that, he swept from the room, John, as ever followed in his wake.

Once in the cab, the doctor wasted no time in moving close to Sherlock’s side. He reached out with his left hand and grasped the detective’s thigh in a firm grip. Neither man looked at the other, but the thrill of arousal rose within them both.

When they pulled up to the curb at 221B, Sherlock lunged out of the cab and fumbled to unlock the main door as John threw cash at the cabbie. They raced up the stairs to their flat where the detective once again fumbled to unlock the door. Once inside, John slammed the door behind him and locked it. They fell on each other with frantic mouths and hands.

After a few moments, John grasped Sherlock’s hands at the wrists and pushed them down to his sides. He methodically began removing the detective’s clothing, starting with the jacket of his suit (it hadn’t been cool enough for the Belstaff today). Moving on, John unbuttoned the shirt that strained against Sherlock’s chest and paused to kiss the marble skin as it was revealed. Finally, the doctor unzipped his lover’s trousers and, as Sherlock toed out of his shoes and socks, pulled them down and off along with the other man’s pants.

The detective was revealed, his cock straining against the confines of the cock cage. John couldn’t resist, he reached out and fingered the other man’s cock through the openings between the metal rings of the cage. Sherlock let out a low moan and dropped his head onto the doctor’s shoulder. “Please…” he begged. The detective was on a high from the successful solution of a case and longed for release from the confinement. Even more, he longed to submit to his lover and experience the release of his mind from the necessity for control.

John laughed. “You’re always so eager.” His voice grew stern. “Bed now. Kneeling. I’ll be right there.”

Sherlock disappeared almost instantly. No need for Bluebell today John thought. Any day that a case was solved was a day to play. It was an understanding that they had reached long ago. Play was guaranteed to bring the detective down from his high in a non-destructive manner. Now he no longer crashed into his black moods a scant few days later. No, Sherlock floated along on an even keel, John intervening whenever Bluebell made its appearance.

The doctor filled two glasses of water from the tap and followed Sherlock to their bedroom. He placed them on the bedside table with a gentle tap. Allowing his eyes to rove over the detective’s body, John began to perfunctorily remove his clothing. As he did so, he contemplated what he wanted to do to the lithe form waiting impatiently on the bed and smiled.

Their scenes had taken on some small rituals as time had progressed so that is where John started. He always took delight in fastening the collar around Sherlock’s neck. It never failed to arouse both of them and it instantly calmed Sherlock. Next came the cuffs around the detective’s wrists and ankles. That done, John retrieved the lube and placed it near the detective on the bed.

Feeling generous, the doctor retrieved the key to the cock cage and released Sherlock from his captivity. The detective immediately grew completely hard in John’s hand, his hips thrusting forward unashamedly. John reached around and gave Sherlock a swat on the arse. “Patience, love.”

This is where creativity came into play. Today, John attached a length of rope to each wrist cuff. “Lie down on your stomach, Sherlock.” The detective complied and the doctor stretched each arm toward the corresponding corner of the bed. Working quickly, he tied off each of Sherlock’s arms to the eyebolts embedded in the opposing bedposts.

The detective tested his bonds and felt safely secured. When John murmured “Gorgeous”, Sherlock writhed against the bed with pleasure.

Retrieving the spreader bar, the doctor knelt between Sherlock’s legs. He slapped the detective’s arse. “Up, Sherlock.” The detective pulled his knees forward and lifted his arse in the air. This gave John more room to work. He slid back and attached each ankle to opposing ends of the spreader bar. Smiling viciously, the doctor extended the bar to its maximum length in one fluid motion.

“Hmph” Sherlock cried out as he collapsed on his stomach, legs spread wide.

John laughed. “You’re spread wide for me, Sherlock. Such a beautiful sight.” He leant forward and stroked between the detectives thighs, from his scrotum up and past his hole. Sherlock shivered and let out a low moan.

Climbing from the bed, John moved around to the head of the bed and gathered the pillows. “Lift up love.” Doing his best to comply, Sherlock lifted his torso from the bed. The doctor stuffed the pillows beneath him to better lift the detective’s arse in the air. “Now, that’s just how I want you.” Another low moan was Sherlock’s only response.

John was so hard already that he know this was going to be a quick scene. He couldn’t work himself into anything elaborate. There would be no toys, no prolonged teasing. This simple bondage and…  **Christ**. Just being used by John, hard, would have to do.

Sherlock heard the flip of the top on the lube and grew even harder. He was already anticipating the feel of John’s fingers at his hole. When the press of the first finger came, he lurched forward momentarily then pressed back onto John’s hand. The detective barely registered the doctor’s muttered “Patience” when it came; however, the press of John’s hand against his back steadied him. The small slow stretch and burn of John’s finger was barely enough. Sherlock wanted “More,  _please John_.”

The doctor smiled and added a second finger to the detective’s hole. Sherlock clenched around him momentarily before relaxing with a low groan. John scissored his fingers a few times and worked his fingers in and out gently. After enough time had passed, the doctor added a third finger and was rewarded with a “God, John”.

The burning stretching sensation was delicious. Sherlock wanted to fuck himself on John’s hand, but the doctor still steadied him with the presence of his right hand on the detective’s back. Sherlock would be good for him but, oh how he wanted more he wanted “Joohhnn. Please, Joohhnn. I want… I need…. Joohhnn.”

The detective’s head was turning and thrashing against the sheets and the doctor’s erection was growing  _very_  insistent. He pulled his fingers from Sherlock’s hole and the detective’s hips bucked at the empty feeling. “Patience, gorgeous.” John slicked himself up with lube and aligned himself with his lover’s hole and slid home with one long glide.

“Fuck, Joohhnn.” The detective’s head lifted from the bed, his back arching up as far as his bonds would allow.

John remained motionless, enjoying the velvety head of Sherlock’s body then he began to move with slow but punishing thrusts. “You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “So” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Amazing.” The resulting series of groans and moans from the detective were loud and pornographic. “God, Sherlock. The sounds you make. I want to drive you through the mattress.” The doctor moved with more zeal, driving deeper and more swiftly into Sherlock’s hole.

Sherlock’s legs pulled instinctively, trying to find a more comfortable position and his hips were jerking wildly beneath John’s cock. Maddeningly, amazingly, it was driving over his prostate with each thrust. His breath was coming in great gasps and his mind was reduced to sensation. “Joohhnn. Joohhnn.” Sherlock felt his lover’s body go ridged and then there was the delightful sensation of ejaculate filling him as John shuddered over him.

After a few moments, John’s arm wrapped around Sherlock’s waist and his hand began pumping the detective’s cock. “Come for me Sherlock.” Those simple words tipped the detective over the edge into oblivion. His own muscles stiffened and streams of semen covered John’s hand in ribbons of white. Sherlock collapsed onto the pillows and bed, eyes closed and body shivering.

John undid the detective’s bonds, pulled the pillows out from beneath him, and rolled Sherlock onto his back away from the damp spot on the bed. He stepped out and returned with a flannel. After cleaning them both up, he joined his lover on the bed and they fell into a satisfied sleep.


	5. Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is driving the good doctor to distraction. This time, John is going to bring everything to a stand still for the detective. This is guaranteed to put Sherlock in a calm zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes me a bit nervous about posting. Shifts nervously.

It wasn't as if John wasn't used to the relentless pacing and complaints of boredom. He was just too bloody tired to play the games that Sherlock was craving. A double shift at the surgery would do that to anyone.

It didn't even matter that Bluebell had been waiting for him in his chair when he had returned to the flat. John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think of a solution. It was about that time that Sherlock clambered over the coffee table for the third time during his pacing.

"Sherlock! Knees!" John fairly shouted out the command. The tall man obligingly knelt where he was, waiting on expectation.  **Right.**  John though quickly. It was time to try out their most expensive piece of gear. It was something that he had been loathe to use until now but, bloody hell, he needed peace and quite for a few hours and Sherlock clearly needed to be contained.

John walked to stand in front of his lover. He didn't want any unrealistic expectations, so he explained his plan in part to the detective. "Look Sherlock, I'm fairly wrung out. I don't have what it takes for a scene right now. But I'm going to take care of you. Do you trust me?"

Sherlock's face wore a puzzled expression but his eyes held explicit trust. "Of course I do. Always." Even now he was shifting from knee to knee, his nervous energy very much in evidence.

John nodded approvingly. "I want you to stay right here, strip, and wait for me on your knees. I'll come get you when I'm ready." With that, the doctor grabbed his book from by his chair and proceeded up to his old room.

The detective's puzzlement only grew as he complied with John's orders. Sherlock could hear shuffling coming from up the stairs as boxes were opened and discarded. Finally, the sounds stopped and the doctor returned down the stairs and proceeded to their room. Sherlock's curiosity was further fueled by the sounds of something heavy being moved about and then silence.

Moments later, John emerged only to retrieve two bottles of water and a straw from the kitchen. "Come, love. Time to sort you."

Sherlock shot to his feet and followed the doctor close on his heels. The sight that greeted him once he entered their bedroom literally made his knees buckle. He barely caught himself on the edge of the bed. John had brought out the sleep sack. Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head as he smelled the sharp scent of leather.

All of this happened so fast that John barely had time to react. "Fuck! Sherlock, are you okay." He was leaning over the tall man, trying to get him to focus on his face.

When the doctor's concern penetrated the aroused haze that surrounded his mind, Sherlock forced himself to blink several times and then to focus on John's face. "Joohhnn. M'okay." He took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm okay. I've just wanted this for so long. Want to be wrapped up tight." His eyes were losing focus again.

"Okay, but you have to stay with me. I can't do this without your help." The firmness of John voice pierced through to Sherlock once more and he strained to focus. Slowly he managed to stand steadily.

John assisted the detective onto the bed and centered him in the sleep sack. It wasn't a custom design, but it was long enough to accommodate Sherlock's form. In addition it had D rings along each side of the zips to allow for a snug fit.

Sherlock tucked his feet into the pocket at the foot of the sack and wriggled in place. John guided the other man's arms into the sleeves that were designed to further limit his mobility and the moan that escaped Sherlock's lips was low and needy. Finally, the doctor slipped the leather mask over the detective's head and strapped it  snuggly into place. This elicited another low moan.

Being careful not to capture bare flesh in the three zips, John closed the sleep bag. He used short lengths of strapping at the D rings to tighten the sleep sack against Sherlock's body. With each snuggling of the sack, the detective let out another low sinful moan.

John surveyed his work. He was sure that should an emergency arise, the army knife he had fetched from his room would make short work of the straps and allow him to free Sherlock quickly. He would only keep the man like this for two hours. Leaning against the headboard, he set a timer on his watch for half an hour at which time he would pull the flap back from Sherlock's hood and make him drink. For now, John would enjoy his book.

* * *

Sherlock felt the heady sense of pressure along the entire length of his body. It was constricting, confining, and he luxuriated in the feeling.

He tried to move his feet and they were tucked safely away. He could wriggle his toes and flex his ankles a bit, but that was all. As for moving his legs, they were deliciously snugged together, any attempts at moving them had proven futile.

The best, though, were his arms. Sheathed as they were in their own casings of leather, not only could he not move them, but he could not feel them against his sides. Sherlock could wriggle his fingers, which was unfortunate. He would have to tell John. John would work something out to keep them immobile.

The detective even revelled in the hood. It silenced the extraneous sounds and filtered out the light. Its strong scent of leather even overrode his olfactory input.

It had been instinct to analyze each and every sensation, cataloging them as Sherlock went along. Now that he was done, he could feel his mind shutting down and his body starting to drift. It was magnificent.

There was never any fear because Sherlock could feel John's presence beside him. There was only the floating.

After some time, Sherlock felt a hand at his face. The opening at the mouth of his hood was folded back and a straw was placed between his lips. Knowing what was expected from him, the detective drank. He drank until the straw was pulled away and the opening closed again. Once again, Sherlock floated. The incident with the straw was repeated twice more. The detective had no idea how much time passed between each incident, but each time he was grateful for the water.

Finally, Sherlock felt the loosening of the straps that snugged him in place. Oddly, he didn't feel disappointed or anxious. Rather, every muscle in his body was extremely relaxed.

The detective heard the sound of the zips and felt a rush if cool air against his flesh. Still he didn't move. When John unbuckled his hood, Sherlock gave him a lazy smile.

"You look like you feel better." The doctor was smiling broadly back.

Sherlock pulled his arms from the sleeves of the sleep sack, wriggled his feet free, and then stretched luxuriously. "I most assuredly do."

John nodded sharply. "So, no more pacing around the flat like a madman?"

Scooting to the edge of the bed, the detective gave John a shy smile. "No more pacing." He placed a quick kiss on John's cheek then continued. "I know that you are tired. Go watch some crap telly. I'll clean the sack then get a shower and join you."

The doctor was amazed. He was tired and hadn't looked forward to cleaning the sack. Not only that, but  _Sherlock_  had just suggested watching crap telly. If the sleep sack had this effect on the man, then he didn't know what he had been worried about and would have to use it more often.


	6. So Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John brings Sherlock to the edge repeatedly, all the while telling the detective how wonderfully he is doing.

John stepped into an uncharacteristically quiet flat, his eyes automatically seeking out Sherlock - it never boded well to come home to silence. It usually meant that the detective had either left the flat in favour of pursuing a case on his own (dangerous at best) or else he had destroyed something during an experiment and was hiding from John’s disapproval in their bedroom. This time, however, the lights were on and the flat still seemed to be in order.

The doctor found what his eyes were seeking, Sherlock, apparently asleep on the sofa, Bluebell clutched endearingly to his chest. He suppressed a laugh at the sight. Considering what was suggested by the presence of Bluebell, the incongruity of Sherlock’s appearance was quite humorous. The lanky man looked like an overgrown child holding a cherished toy. This thought was immediately dispelled when Sherlock, partially roused by the sound of John returning to the flat, shifted. Bluebell fell from his grasp and the red dressing gown parted just  _so_. The expanse of pale flesh that was revealed at his abdomen lit a fire in the doctor’s groin that was difficult to ignore. Still, John dutifully set about putting away the groceries before turning his attentions to his lover.

Sherlock was lying with his left arm against the back of the sofa, his right arm hanging limply, fingers curled upward against the floor. He had shifted downward so that his head was lying flat against the cushion beneath his head and his feet were propped up on the armrest at the other end of the sofa. John dipped down and lifted Bluebell from where it had fallen on the floor next to Sherlock’s right hand. He stood there, simply gazing at the detective, for several long minutes. The love that he felt for the other man was burning hot in his chest. Sherlock was amazingly intelligent, wonderfully gorgeous, and most of all, completely  _his_. John thought that he had to be the luckiest man alive.

Finally feeling the weight of John’s gaze upon him, Sherlock opened his eyes. His face broke into a lazy grin at the sight of the doctor standing over him. The detective gave a long languorous stretch then wriggled suggestively before speaking. “Hello John.”

The doctor gave a small shudder at the sound of Sherlock's voice. "Christ, Sherlock, look at you sprawled out on the sofa." John knelt down next to his lover and ran his left hand along the exposed flesh of Sherlock's abdomen. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

The detective rose to a sitting position, his knees coming to rest on either side of John. A spark of lust was glimmering in Sherlock's eyes. "Show me John, please." His voice sounded low and needy, full of a burning desire.

John's voice had grown husky with arousal. "Close your eyes and sit still." Sherlock complied immediately. "Good. Good. You're so very good for me."

The doctor leant forward and opened the detective's dressing gown. Sherlock was bare chested - John's hands drifted across the expanse of pale flesh almost of their own accord. When the doctor's hands brushed across the detective's nipples, the younger man inhaled sharply. In response, John swirled his thumbs in small circles around the responsive nubs which rose into hard peaks under John's ministrations. Sherlock's head fell back against the sofa and he purred his contentment from somewhere down deep in his chest. Taking the small nubs between his thumbs and forefingers, John rolled them contemplatively for several long moments before giving them each a hard vicious pinch. The quick gasp that escaped Sherlock's lips caused John's cock to twitch deliciously in response.

John moved his hands upward and slowly smoothed Sherlock's dressing gown off of his shoulders. He continued the motion, caressing the taller man's arms, as he swept the sleeves downward and off over Sherlock's elegant hands. John grasped the other man's wrists and pulled him close. "Bedroom Sherlock. Now." The detective shivered in his lover's grasp. "Strip and wait for me, kneeling, by the bed."

A deep agreeable hum issued from Sherlock's throat. "Yes John."

Smilingly proprietarily, John watched as the detective went to their bedroom. When the detective had disappeared, the doctor quickly made his usual preparations – locking the door then grabbing some water and a couple of damp flannels – before making his way to their bedroom.

The sight of Sherlock, bare-skinned and knelt by their bed, never failed to bring John to full arousal but today, the detective seemed particularly beautiful. After setting down their supplies, the doctor approached his lover with an air of reverence - his breath catching momentarily in wonder. "Sherlock, you are so bloody gorgeous." It was always amusing to watch the detective preen beneath his praise.

The doctor approached Sherlock and, taking the other man’s hands in his own, guided him to his feet. “You always behave so well for me, Sherlock and I know you’ll be good for me today.” The doctor leaned in and nuzzled against Sherlock’s chest. He leaned back and looked into his lover’s eyes. “I want you to lie down in the centre of the bed, spread your legs wide, and put your arms over your head.”

“Yes, John,” came Sherlock’s breathy reply. The detective climbed onto the bed with graceful movements, relishing the thought of John’s eyes upon his body. Shifting lithely, Sherlock stretched his arms out above his head and waited for further instruction. 

John joined his lover on the bed and stroked Sherlock slowly from his collarbone to his hips. The detective’s back arched, pushing his torso into the doctor’s touch.

“I only want one thing from you, Sherlock. I want you to lie there, without moving, and take everything that I give you. You can be as loud as you like, you can cry out loud. You can even scream, I don’t care. But I don’t want you to move.” So saying, John lent down and licked a stripe across Sherlock’s nipple.

The detective moaned, low and needy, at the sensation. “Oh, God, John! Yes. For you.”

The doctor smiled to himself and began placing slow wet kisses down Sherlock’s torso. John allowed his hands to trail down the sides his lover’s body, feeling the muscles that overlaid the bumps and ridges of the detective’s ribcage. “You feel so good, Sherlock. So strong beneath my hands.”

John’s strong hands moved down to Sherlock’s thighs and stroked them lovingly before continuing to the detective’s bollocks. The doctor gently massaged each of his lover’s balls in turn.

Sherlock fought to remain motionless as he had been instructed but his hips shifted ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, John. It just feels so good.”

The doctor smiled. “It’s okay, Sherlock. Just try harder. I want you to be so good for me.” The detective made an agreeable sound deep in his throat that John took for assent. “Good, love.”

John grabbed the lube that he had placed handily nearby and slicked the fingers of his left hand. When he was ready, he initiated a double attack – he grasped Sherlock’s cock with his right hand and began stroking at the detective’s hole with the fingers of his left.

A whine came from the detective’s lips as John’s finger slipped into Sherlock’s hole. He worked the detective’s cock slowly, not wanting to bring him to completion too soon. As he worked, he added a second finger, then a third. When he was finally able to comfortably reach his lover’s prostate, he gave it a quick firm stroke. In response, Sherlock sucked in his lower lip and bit down hard to keep from crying out. “Don’t hold back, love. Let me hear you.”

“Fuck! Please, do that again.” Sherlock’s voice was strained, full of an aching need.

John complied, stroking the detective’s cock steadily but only lightly fluttering over Sherlock’s prostate.

The detective growled in frustration. John’s ministrations had brought him swiftly to the edge. “I’m almost there. Ahhh”

Those were the words that the doctor had been waiting to hear – he immediately halted the motions of both his hands.

Sherlock managed not to shift where he lay, but it was a near thing. “Joohhnn. Please no.”

Seeing his lover laying motionless on the bed, cock pulsing in need, caused John’s arousal to heighten. “Look at you, Sherlock. Laying there, sweaty, aching with need. You’re so lovely and you’re doing so well. You can do this for me.”

“Yes John. For you.” The words were coming from Sherlock’s lips were low and breathy.

As Sherlock’s breathing levelled out, John set to work again - left hand teasing at John’s cock, right hand fucking his hole. The doctor set up a determined pace, stopping only when his lover’s breathing began to hitch again. Each time, as he waited for Sherlock to come back from the edge, he lavished the detective with words of praise.

Finally, when the detective was begging, his voice husky with unshed tears, John decided that he had drawn it out long enough. The doctor’s erection was an aching bulge inside his jeans, so he moved his right hand from Sherlock’s cock to undo his fly. He continued to fuck his lover’s hole, stroking the detective’s prostate more firmly, as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans. John set to work to bring himself to the edge - it wasn’t difficult with Sherlock moaning in pleasure beneath him.

As the doctor approached the edge of his own orgasm, he uttered words of encouragement. “Come for me, Sherlock.” With a cry, the detective’s body went ridged and he was tipped over the edge. John followed closely behind.

When their orgasms had passed, John collapsed to the bed next to his lover. “You were bloody amazing, Love.”

Sherlock pulled his arms down to his chest and rolled onto his side to face the doctor. “No, John.  _You_ , were amazing.” The detective’s smirk was wiped away as he pulled John near and placed a kiss on the doctor’s forehead. “Amazing.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.


End file.
